Show
by Revell
Summary: Late nights, advanced technology, shopping and thirdrate romance. [Ian x Riley slash, premovie, oneshot]


"Show me again."

Riley rolled his eyes, but only after tipping his head so he was certain that Ian couldn't see him. It was the third time he'd gone over this tonight, and while he never tired of technology and was grateful for a chance to actually use a good half of the things he knew, it surprised him that Ian wasn't anywhere near bored with this stuff yet.

"Well, you see," said Riley, turning back to Ian and discovering that the other man simply wasn't where he had been sitting. "Hey, what are you doing?"

Ian's back was to Riley and the computer screen; he was standing in front of the tall dresser pressed against the wall, next to Riley's bed. "Clearasil pads?" said Ian, sounding amused and holding up the facial cleansers so Riley could see them.

"Because it's better than wearing makeup. I thought you were interested in this."

"Well, it's a fairly good shot in the dark to say that you're not, rolling your eyes like that."

Riley stared at him. "I hate it when you do that."

"Do what?" said Ian, in a tone that said he knew exactly what as he put the container back on the dresser and crossed to sit next to Riley at the desk.

"You know what," Riley said anyway.

"Mmm," said Ian, looking at the computer screen with an expression that told Riley that he hadn't a clue as to what the little dots moving across the screen meant. It was one of the few times that Riley felt superior to the other man, and he smirked slightly in spite of himself.

"Listen. Here's what we do with this – where's Ben?" said Riley suddenly, looking around.

"Sleeping on the couch, I'd gather," said Ian. "He's put a long day in, and you have to admit this is mind-numbing." He gestured to the screen.

"Maybe," said Riley, "but it makes _sense_, unlike the weird stuff you were doing to try to find the location of the Charlotte yourselves."

"And a great lot of moving dots across the screen aren't weird."

"I told you, this is the grid and this is the – "

"Yes, yes, you've told me," said Ian. He reached out and gripped Riley's hand as it shifted the mouse.

Riley sputtered. "What are you - ? Don't _damage_ it!" he said, watching as Ian shifted the mouse along with him. His hand was warm, and when Ian managed to close the program without bringing about the apocalypse, Riley was able to focus his attention on other things, such as exactly why his companion was holding his hand in his bedroom.

Riley tipped his head in the direction of their hands.

"Ian?"

"Yes?"

"Why are you doing that?"

"Uncomfortable?"

"Very."

"At least you're honest."

"True. Can you...yeah. Removing your hand from mine would be a good idea."

Ian smirked at him, but moved his hand from where it had been.

He moved it to Riley's shoulder.

"_Ian?_" said Riley, his voice escalating in pitch.

"Quiet now," said Ian. "Wouldn't want to wake up Ben, would we?"

"I'd be willing to face the wrath, yes."

"Hell hath no fury like a Gates awakened," said Ian, leaning closer to Riley. When Riley could feel Ian's breath on his ear, he decided that Ian was really quite close enough and stood up, folding an arm around his midsection and bringing the other up so that he could chew on his finger.

"Nervous, Riley?"

"Nervous?" Riley repeated, laughing slightly, a _yes-I'm-nervous-you-idiot_ laugh.

"You don't have to be, you know," said Ian. "I have my own agenda."

"One that doesn't involve me right now?"

"You could say that."

"Then _what...was...that...for_?" Riley choked out.

"Just to get your adrenaline up," said Ian. "You'll need it when we find the Charlotte."

Riley watched as Ian moved to the door, walking quietly as though to not awaken Ben in the next room over. "You're, uh, crashing here tonight, then, I'm assuming," he said, following Ian and looking out at Ben, who was indeed asleep on the couch. "You did bring him over here."

"Sleeping here does look like an option, doesn't it? Where would I – "

"My room," said Riley immediately. "I'll be out here, wake me up if you need me." He ushered Ian into his room quickly, despite the other man's quiet protests, then shut the door and curled up in the recliner next to the couch.

There was no way sleep would come easy that night.

Riley awakened the next morning with the feeling that a gaggle of schoolgirls had just skipped rope, double-dutch, on his spine. He yawned, then twisted himself around so that he could pull himself into an upright position, his bones popping into what he hoped was their normal position as he sat up and stretched, arching his back before he stood and started into the kitchen.

In the short distance between what passed as a living room and the refrigerator, Riley passed the door to his room. He reached up and rubbed sleep from his eyes as he stared at the still-closed door for a second; Ian was apparently not awake yet, and Riley had no idea as to if he was a morning person.

He shrugged, crossed to the refrigerator, and started to grab things for breakfast. The refrigerator's contents were on the sparse side, but Riley was a bachelor who didn't usually have two of his male friends sleeping at his place, so he felt it was understandable.

"What are you doing?" said a voice from behind him. Riley jumped, nearly dropping a half-empty carton of milk, and turned around quickly.

"Ben!" he said, and even he could hear the sound of relief in his voice.

Ben looked at him strangely. "Did I miss much? I, um, look, I'm sorry for falling asleep. I hope you don't mind going over the plan one more time."

"No, no, it's fine," said Riley. "I just... Ian's kind of still asleep in my room, so..."

Ben made a small sound that was very obviously stifling laughter.

"I wasn't in there with him!" said Riley.

"I know, I know," said Ben. "What's for breakfast?"

Riley abandoned the refrigerator for the cabinet next to it and started shuffling through it. "I have milk, and...ravioli." He picked up the can of ravioli with the hand not still holding the milk, set it back down inside the cabinet, then pulled out a box. He stared at it for a second, then put it down on the counter.

"It's six in the morning. I think I'll pass on the ravioli." Ben looked at Riley, who still hadn't put down the carton of milk, before continuing. "Do you need me to pick up some things?" he said.

"No, I'm fine, why?"

Ben had opened the refrigerator and was looking inside; without the milk carton in there, there was even less to go through. "Riley, we have three eggs and a box of..." He looked at the box Riley had set on the counter. "Tastee Wheat. Whatever Tastee Wheat is."

"Delicious and nutritious. Only without the delicious."

Ben laughed. "I'll go get some things."

Riley set the milk down on the counter with a thud. Ben would be gone for only a few minutes, after all, and as long as Ian didn't wake up...

"Yeah, okay," said Riley. "After that, we plan, right?"

"Right."

"Ah, so you're awake," came a lilting accent from across the room.

"Ian. Good morning," said Ben as he crossed to the door.

So much for Ian not waking up before Ben returned.

"'Morning," said Riley, more to the container of milk than to anyone else in the room.

"Going somewhere, Ben?" said Ian.

"Yeah, we need some things for breakfast."

"Ah, the joys of being a bachelor," said Ian, not quite looking at Riley. "You're taking my car, I'm assuming?" he said to Ben.

Ben looked at Ian in a manner that made it obvious that he had forgotten exactly how he had gotten here there night before.

"As long as you do me a favor," said Ian, smirking slightly. "Shaw called me on my mobile, he wanted to let me know that his car seems to have gone dead during the night. He ought to be here for the briefing, don't you think?"

"Yeah," said Ben. "I'll pick him up."

Ian tossed the keys across the room to Ben, who fumbled with them for a moment before catching them more firmly in his hand. Ben turned to look at Riley, smiling slightly. Riley smiled back, offering a small wave as Ben walked out the door and shut it behind him, then looked quickly over to Ian.

"It's going to spoil," said Ian, gesturing toward the milk sitting on the counter. "That." He started to cross the room towards it.

"Ah...yeah," said Riley, picking it up before Ian could get to it. "Don't worry about it, it's fine."

"All right, Riley?" said Ian, looking at him strangely.

"Oh, yeah," said Riley. "Great. You sleep well?"

"Your bed is rather comfortable, yes."

"That's good."

"Very much so."

There was an uncomfortable silence; not a brief pause, either, but one roughly large enough to sink a good-sized ship.

"About last night," said Ian, just as Riley found those exact same words leaving _his_ mouth.

Ian laughed. "You first."

"Um, nothing," said Riley. "Nothing, other than...well, is holding a man's hand _normal_ for you?"

The look on Ian's face made Riley's blood run...not cold, exactly; it was more like lukewarm.

"It might be," said Ian. "Don't worry, Poole, I don't kiss on the first date."

The words bolted out of Riley's mouth before he could stop them. "We've been alone together before."

"Well, then, in that case I suppose you're open season, aren't you?" said Ian, arching an eyebrow.

Riley closed his eyes, swearing at himself for saying anything. Ian laughed and Riley flinched, as though expecting Ian to jump him at any second.

He was relieved to hear Ian's footsteps receding into his bedroom.

"Take it or leave it, Riley. Take it or leave it," said Ian over his shoulder.

Riley, fully determined to leave it, made his way back into the living room and sank back into the recliner.

* * *

The apartment complex Shaw lived in was large and nondescript, and Ben looked at the console next to the gate with mild bemusement. He wasn't quite sure exactly which button to press to get Shaw's apartment and ask to be allowed in – the names next to the buttons had long been worn away – and he wasn't about to press all of them. 

He stared at it for a moment longer, then started back to the parking lots. He hadn't been in the lot toward the back yet, and he was hoping that if Shaw's car really was dead, Shaw would still be working on it, even if the fact that Shaw had called to _tell_ Ian that his car was dead implied not knowing the least thing about how to fix cars.

Luck appeared to be with Ben today, as he made his way to the back lot and noticed Shaw leaning under the hood of a car that could best be described as "that large thing that Shaw happens to drive." It appeared to be an older model, made fully of metal as opposed to having plastic and tin parts, and looked like it could take out quite a few police cars. It also looked like it _had_ taken out quite a few police cars in its day, as it had quite a few dings and scratches.

Ben supposed it looked broken-in, but he failed to be surprised at the idea that the thing had died.

"You have your car working yet, Shaw?" Ben called from a few parking spaces away. Shaw stepped back and out from under the hood of the car.

"Would you like to have a look at it?" said Shaw, and Ben couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

"Sure," said Ben, coming to stand next to Shaw, pressing his hands against the front of the car.

"The carburetor's shot, far as I can tell," said Shaw, pointing at something that Ben could only assume was the carburetor. Ben was reasonably sure that his lack of knowledge about cars would be discovered in a moment, but the truth was that he knew how to jump start a car and...that was about it.

"Mmm, yeah, looks like it," said Ben.

Shaw rolled his eyes and leaned under again, removing the thin rod holding the hood up, then stepped back, holding the weight of the hood with both hands.

"Watch your hands," he said, letting the car hood drop, and Ben jumped back just in time to avoid having his fingers crushed. The hood slammed with a loud sound of metal hitting and grating on metal, and Shaw swore quietly before turning to Ben. "Where are we going? Your friend's place?"

"Not yet. We need to pick up a few things first. Riley has...well, his resources are limited."

Shaw looked at Ben strangely, but said nothing further as they walked to Ian's car. Ben clicked the button on the key and unlocked the doors.

* * *

After a few minutes of sitting in the living room by himself, Riley was still in the recliner. Every now and then he would find his leg shifting or shaking, seemingly of its own volition. He didn't want to go to talk to Ian, even though he knew he was being childish. 

Childish, but _safe_.

He folded his arms across his chest, shifting his left leg pointlessly, and started to weigh the pros and the cons.

Pro – talking to Ian would resolve this whole matter. Just tell Ian he was uncomfortable, and Ian would probably back off.

Con – talking to Ian certainly hadn't worked last night. Of course it would work now. _Think, Riley, think._

Pro – talking to Ian would...um...

Con – Riley really didn't want to be kissed by Ian anytime soon.

Pro – Well, it would...hmm...

Con – Riley _really_ didn't want to be kissed by Ian anytime soon.

Decision – he wouldn't go talk to Ian. Simple as that.

_That wasn't that hard, now, was it?

* * *

_

Ben and Shaw made their way to the supermarket nearest to Riley's apartment with no incident, excluding the annoying silence that permeated Ian's car. Ben parked the car easily, and he and Shaw climbed out. Ben was content to walk a few paces behind Shaw, as he had just noticed how...odd...the entire setup must look.

He pushed those thoughts quickly out of his mind as Shaw came to a stop in front of the shopping carts outside the store.

"Are you going to get one?" asked Ben.

"Me?" said Shaw, looking at Ben oddly.

"You're standing right there."

"If you don't want to push the stupid cart, just say so," muttered Shaw, grabbing a cart and starting to walk it quickly toward the store.

* * *

Five minutes later, Riley was knocking on the door to his own bedroom. It wasn't that he had changed his mind about being kissed; it was the fact that he had realized that Ian was in his bedroom with the most sophisticated equipment of this year, and the possibility of Ian screwing up the equipment seven ways from Sunday was very real. 

Ian opened the door, looking slightly bored. "So you've decided I'm not going to bite you?"

"You could say that...can I have my computer? The laptop on the desk."

"Come in and get it," said Ian, stepping aside to let Riley in.

"Heh," said Riley, watching Ian as he crossed to the desk.

He watched as Ian shut the door behind him.

And locked it.

"Hey!" said Riley, sounding a bit more like a spited girlfriend than he had intended.

"I simply want to talk," said Ian.

"You can talk with an unlocked door, can't you?"

"Would you bother to stay if it was unlocked?"

"...you have a point." Riley pulled out the chair from the desk and sat on it. "Go ahead and talk."

"You took me seriously, didn't you?" said Ian. He didn't sound upset; on the contrary, he sounded slightly amused.

"I might have..." said Riley.

"You're overreacting," Ian said. "You needn't worry about anything."

"You're...just playing around, then."

"You could say that."

"Nothing serious."

"Not in the least."

"You, uh...do this sort of thing with Ben?" said Riley.

"All the time. He's used to it; I assumed..."

"Well, I'm not."

"I understand," said Ian. He crossed over to Riley, pulling out the chair he had been sitting on the night before and seating himself. "You _can_ always tell me to back off, you know."

Riley pushed his chair back slightly without getting up. "I'll...keep that in mind."

Ian laughed. "That's good." He gestured toward the laptop. "Now, tell me again what this thing is for?"

"You're actually going to pay attention this time?"

"To every word."

* * *

Ben and Shaw had been wandering aimlessly for the last ten minutes, Shaw grabbing random things and throwing them in the cart as Ben checked things off a mental list he had been compiling. 

"Shaw?"

"What?"

"Is there a _reason_ Riley needs whipped cream?"

"Is there a reason Riley needs any of this stuff?"

"It's just that he doesn't exactly have anything to _put_ it on."

"Well, we'll have to change that, won't we?" Shaw said, tossing the whipped cream into the cart.

"...we haven't bought anything of substance in this whole time we've been shopping here."

"We've bought plenty of things with substance. Now let's go."

"Don't like shopping?"

"Not in the least." Shaw paused, then reached out, grabbed a box, tossed it into the cart on top of the whipped cream, and started for the checkout line.

"Tastee Wheat?" Ben said skeptically. "I think he actually _has_ some of that."

"That would figure."

* * *

Riley went over the program, along with the program's components and the core idea behind it all. By the time he was finished, his throat was dry and Ian had apparently had enough of this whole thing – his head was propped on his hand and he was solidly asleep. 

"It would figure that the one time you ask without ulterior motives, it's because you're falling asleep," muttered Riley. He reached out and shook Ian's shoulder gently.

He was completely unprepared for Ian's reaction – he nearly jumped out of the chair, hand gripping Riley's wrist.

"Um...having a bad dream or something?" said Riley, eyes quite as large as dinner plates, thank you very much.

Ian blinked at him, then removed his hand from Riley's arm. "Yeah," he said, raking his hand backward through his hair. "Yeah, you could say that."

"Oh," said Riley. His heart rate was almost back to normal, and he tried to gather his wits about him. "You okay? Want something to drink?"

"That would be lovely," said Ian, who was still breathing hard but seemed to be reassured by his surroundings.

Riley exited the program and closed the laptop, sending the room into darkness. He stood up, stumbling slightly as he crossed the room and climbed up onto the bed, kneeling near the headboard. He pulled up on the blinds in the small window above the headboard – they were metal, with all the firmness of crumpled aluminum foil, and they hung at an awkward angle that Riley supposed would be amusing if he weren't so utterly freaked out.

He climbed down off the bed and stood in the middle of the room. "Oh. Drink. Right," he said, passing Ian and leaving the room.

Ian was still sitting in the chair, apparently lost in thought, when Riley came back with some water. "It was either this or milk," he said, trying to sound apologetic and not disturbed. He didn't think he succeeded, but Ian smiled at him anyway.

"Water will be fine," said Ian, leaning back in the chair and drinking; he was sipping it, really, and it hit Riley that Ian would probably do amazingly at those wine-tasting parties he'd heard of at work but never been invited to. Not like he really needed to go in the first place.

"What are you thinking about?" asked Ian, smiling at Riley over the edge of the glass. Riley looked at him oddly. Most guys he knew didn't ask him questions like that; but then, most guys he knew didn't hold his hand while sitting in the dark in his bedroom, either.

He shook his head, wondering why he couldn't let that go.

"Wine-tasting parties," said Riley.

"Well, that's slightly random, isn't it?" said Ian, a hint of laughter in his voice. "Do tell."

"Oh," said Riley, feeling heat rise to his face and wishing he hadn't opened the blinds – the sunlight exposed too much. "I, uh, haven't been to any."

"Recently, or ever?" said Ian.

"Ever."

"Mmm," said Ian. "Didn't feel like going?"

"No, just wasn't in the mood," Riley lied, feeling the blush deepen.

If Ian noticed, he didn't mention it. "It's all a bunch of overstuffed sods, anyway," he said, taking another drink of water.

"Yeah," said Riley. "That's what I figured."

There was more silence, but it wasn't quite as uncomfortable as the silence earlier that morning. Ian thought for a moment, then passed the glass of water over to Riley, a mischievous look on his face.

Riley stared at him. "What are you...?"

"You've never been to a wine-tasting party," said Ian, smirking slightly. "I might as well show you good form."

Riley almost laughed; he tried to stifle it at the last moment, resulting in an odd snerking noise. "You're not..."

"Serious?" said Ian. "Oh, perfectly. Go ahead, let's watch you drink it."

Riley smirked as well, then raised the glass to his lips and started to drink.

"You're drinking it way too fast," said Ian. He reached out and gripped Riley's hand, tilting the glass at a lower angle. "Try that."

"I can barely get any that way," said Riley crossly, pulling his head away from the glass.

"That's the point," said Ian, looking amused. "The point is to taste it, not drown yourself in it."

"I wasn't drowning myself in it," said Riley.

"I'm sure."

Riley was suddenly made very aware of exactly how close Ian was when Ian put his hand on Riley's knee. Riley blinked; he didn't dare pull his hand away from the glass, where Ian's other hand was still gripping his, out of fear of dropping and breaking it.

He had an idea as to where this was going, but for some reason, it wasn't entirely unwelcome. If he had to guess, he would have said that it was waking Ian up that had done it – those few moments where he had seen Ian afraid had made him more human to Riley than anyone else had been in a long time.

* * *

Ben and Shaw got in the car about half an hour after Shaw had initially tried to leave, Ian's backseat piled high with groceries. Ben didn't blame him, and while he _was_ hungry, he had been determined to buy at least three things of substance. Three things had turned into five, and it had escalated from there. They had ended up buying the Tastee Wheat after all – Ben rationalized that he hadn't a clue as to how much of that Riley actually had in that box, if any, and at least he knew Riley liked that. The rest had been guesswork. 

Shaw threw himself down onto the seat, tipping his head back against the headrest; Ben got in after him and started the car.

"At least we'll have breakfast when we get there," said Ben.

Shaw rolled his eyes. "Just drive, Gates."

Ben did as he was told.

* * *

Ian guided Riley's hand down to the desk, setting the glass of water down. His line of vision followed the glass; Riley kept his eyes fixated on Ian's face. 

"Ian," Riley started, and when Ian looked at him Riley lost all coherent thought.

"All right, Riley?" said Ian softly.

"Yeah," said Riley. "Yeah, I'm all right. You?"

"Yes."

Riley wasn't sure how long they sat like that, Ian still touching him and both of them leaning forward, so close now that Ian could kiss him if he wanted to, and Riley wasn't sure if he'd mind that as much now.

The thing was that Ian _wouldn't_.

Riley wasn't sure how he knew; it was one of those things that simply made sense, like arithmetic or computer programming. Ian was unpredictable, yes; but then, both of them were, and Riley had to do something or he thought he would scream.

Riley leaned forward, closing whatever distance that may have been left between them, and kissed Ian.

Ian's eyes closed almost immediately, and the hand that had been on Riley's moved to the back of Riley's neck. Riley could feel the lurch of the swivel chair he had been sitting in tipping forward beneath him, and he would have fallen if Ian hadn't caught him, still kissing him softly, and brought him to kneel on the floor. Ian knelt with him, and it was then that Riley started to feel extremely weird. He pulled away, and Ian let him.

It wasn't right, and Riley knew it immediately. Pulling away hadn't been right; it felt unfinished, incomplete, and from the look on Ian's face he was feeling it too.

"I'm, ah...I'm sorry," said Riley, and Ian shook his head.

"Don't talk anymore," said Ian, and with that he leaned forward and kissed him again.

The knock on the bedroom door nearly scared Riley out of his wits.

"Uh, Riley?" came Ben's voice. The doorknob rattled, and Riley was grateful that Ian had locked it.

"I'll be there in a minute!" called Riley. He stood and picked up the laptop, then crossed to the door. Ian stood up behind him, and they both left the room as soon as Riley had unlocked and opened the door.

"What were you doing in there?" said Ben, and Riley blinked at him. His gaze shifted nervously from Ben to Shaw, who was looking incredibly displeased.

"Riley was showing me how that...thing he programmed works," said Ian smoothly. "Funny thing being, I still haven't a clue as to what to do with it."

This answer seemed to satisfy Ben, and Riley noticed Ian giving Shaw a _We'll-talk-later_ look as they started to unload groceries.

"Exactly how much food did you buy?" Riley said.

"Too damn much," said Shaw irritably.

"...and what am I supposed to do with the whipped cream?"

"My point exactly," said Ben. Shaw muttered something under his breath, and it was then that Riley noticed that Ian was giving him an odd look.

An _I-know-_exactly_-what-to-do-with-that_ look.

Riley stared at him, then shoved the whipped cream into the back of his freezer.


End file.
